The Bird The Dog's bride
by Joyeaux5-10
Summary: I'm taking from both the books and TV-show. Some of which is very close to scrip I do not mean plagiarize no copyright infringement intended. Just my interpretations,reactions and how I would have done it different. M rating cause its Game of Thrones! Hello! O an Sandor and Sansa forever! PS Arya and Jaqen as well, however waiting til she grows up, 12 is a bit young. updates soon
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: I'm going to try and add chapter a few times a week. I am writing this partly because of the people in my life that remind me of the people in the stories. I think that why fans get so touchy about other people rewriting or changing things they like. THIS IS MY STORY! however if you want to share ideas or suggest what to do next feel free Reviews make people write faster!**

* * *

He had been waiting for her, in the darkness of her room. He smelt sweet scent of her soap as he sat upon her bed, before it was overpowered by his own, one of sweat and smoke, of wine and blood and the fear of men now dead. He could imagine her sleeping, peacefully... But the memories of her beatings and the consent threats made against her life made him doubt she ever felt safe. Not here, in her gilded cage. Not unlike living beneath the same roof as his brother... Sweet, sweet Sansa, if only the little bird has wings to fly from this place...

Fly away from the evil loins and horrid men of war and even this filthy dog, we are killers all alike...

Sansa ran into her room bolting it behind her, now totally consumed by darkness. She moved slowly stumbling towards the window, something moved behind her. A large hand, pressed over her mouth, suffocating her scream, as she was pulled close to a chest of armor.

"Scream and I'll kill you, little bird." It was Sandor's hand, his breath against the back of Sansa's neck. She could smell the wine on it. Did he mean to kill her? Stop her from fleeing? Had he darker intentions in mind? She did her best to slow her breathing, his hand slipped from off her face down to her neck. _Seven Gods in_ _Seven Heavens make it quick._ She prayed. Sandor's grip did not tighten to choke her; it instead moved to her shoulder and spun her around with great force.

"Aren't you going to ask me if the battle has been won?" She had already heard the city would soon be over run. She could not see his face but she knew his eyes were upon her face. She did not respond and his grip on her shoulder tightened painfully.

"Has the battle been won?"

"That's a good little bird, repeating what she's been told." She didn't know why she wasn't crying, perhaps she had cried all the tears one person could in a lifetime. "Why doesn't the little bird cry, does the world no longer frighten you?" She turned her face away from the smell of his breath, wine and sick and smoke. Neither spoke of a moment. "I'm going... before the city has burned to the ground" He said louder, before he had been whispering low.

"Going? What about the King, you are his shield? Has he been killed?"

"You'd like that wouldn't you... No the King lives, but he can die just fine without me."

"Where are you going?"

"Away from here, away from the shit and flies, out the Iron Gate, I suppose. Head north somewhere, anywhere. Would the little bird like to fly north with the hound?"

"You won't get out, all the city gates are shut."

"Not to the Kings dog, I have the white cloak… and this." He patted the pommel of his sword. "The man who tries to stop me is a dead man. Unless he's on fire." He laughed bitterly then lowered his voice once more "I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'll kill em."

"Is that why you came here?"

"Don't you want your freedom? Your life?" He snarled.

"And what is the price of my freedom?"

"Ah! Now you have learned. You promised me a song, little bird. Or had you forgotten?"  
Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life."

She could only think of one song, as she sang her voice did not sound like her own as if it was from somewhere far away.

_Gentle Mother, font of mercy,save our sons from war, we pray,__  
stay the swords and stay the arrows,  
let them know a better day.  
Gentle Mother, strength of women,  
help our daughters through this fray,  
soothe the wrath and tame the fury,  
teach us all a kinder way._

It was all she could sing, her throat having become painfully dry. Unable to continue she did something that surprised them both. She reached for his hand that had fallen from her waist as she sang. He released her completely as she gave it a gentle squeeze, letting her move past him to the trunk at the end of her bed. Where she had hidden a small satchel incase an occasion such as this should arise. Even in her heart of hearts, she never thought it would. She moved as quickly as she could grabbing a scarf to cover her hair and cloak Sandor was stunned only a moment longer than it took to her ready herself. As their eyes met, the drunken glaze left his eyes and was replaced by a determined fire.

"Say close behind me girl, your life depends upon it." Sansa did her best to become invisible, as she followed close enough to be his shadow.


	2. Sandor's dream

I'M BURNING HELP ME! PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME SANDOR!

_Damn you dog it's just a dream._ _Now Gregor's voice in my ear._

"Listen to the little piss beg, squeals nice, don't he brother mine?"

_I've killed ya a thousand times, in a thousand dreams. Hacked ya to bits and cut off your head, still you just laugh at me. Fuck off._

"You hadn't dreamt of me in years. Whatever did I do, did are little spat today bring back old memories?"

_It's just a dream, soon you won't smell the burning, or hear it anymore… "_

Are sure of that brother?"

_Child still shrieks and sobs, you lived it, you bested it, just wake up, leaving your sick cunt of a brother to his tormentings. _

"What a good idea brother, could it have been you speaking to that little cunt. Tell'n your sweetling our little tale. Did you like the way her eyes went wide, how the sight of ya made her nearly sick. Did you think she felt sorry for ya? Maybe you thought I should play a game with her, really let her know what a twisted fuck of a brother ya have?"

_Leave her outta this._

"O, I think not baby brother, but don't worry, once I'm done with her you can have her screaming in your dreams too!"

_NO! NO! I'll kill you! I'll follow you to all seven hells to kill you again! Seven times seven if I have to!_

"But you've killed me so many times before."

Sandor woke screaming, sweat soaked and stinking of fear.

"Fuck'n Hells…"

Just before he woke he's seen Sansa's face, her flaming hair blown around her beautiful eyes as flames licked at her skin. She had smiled, blushing as if their touch were gentle kisses. The kisses he's dreamt of giving…


	3. Chapter 3

"Say close behind me girl, your life depends upon it."

Sansa did her best to become invisible, as she followed close enough to be his shadow. He moved with little stealth, shoving or throwing man or beast out of his way. It was as bad as the night terror she had, being beaten, her fathers beheading, worse ones were being attacked by the mob and the Hound never came to save her. They were surrounded by the screams of dying men, smoke and green fire that somehow turned the night sky blood red, Lannister red. Stranger was waiting, black as death, his eyes reflected red from the light. He snorted and stumped as if knowing the task ahead of them.

"You'll ride on him with me for now, later we shall get you your own. We must hurry on now." He tossed her into the saddle as if she weighed no more than a ragdoll. Taking his cue she pushed herself ahead in the saddle, and shifted her bag to hang in front, as he mounted behind her.

Sansa knew Stranger was a war horse, trained my Ser, Clegane himself, but until then it meant very little to her. He kicked at or smashed aside anything that stood in his way. Much like Sandor had done, who trusted him so that did not draw his broadsword until they reach the first gate. There were only four guards at this smaller gate.

"Turn back the city is sealed, by order of the queen." Earlier he had pulled his cloak around him, almost completely hiding Sansa. He threw back his head so the man could see him better, which exposed Sansa.

"I'll warn you once, you simple twat, do not bar the way of the King's hound."

"Who do you have there Hound, are you acting as a KingsGuard on official business?" Another man asked.

"I'm taking my bitch and riding into hell, any you lads care to join me?" Stranger reared up as Sandor swong his sword, then with a thundering stump came back down eyes flashing fire. The guards let them pass, and Stranger took off at a pace that amazing and frightened Sansa. She no longer regretted still wearing her bodice. She wasn't a good rider, however she noticed that when riding with Joffery if she was wearing her bodice it made her sit tall in the saddle keeping her back and neck from becoming sore. It however did nothing to ease the pain of riding from elsewhere.

Sandor's grip tightened around her waist.

"Hold on girl." And Stranger jumped over a stone wall and up the steps leading to the greater wall. Sansa closed her eyes tight and held her breath for what felt like forever. "It's alright child, we made it, you'll live to sing another day."

There pace was beyond a gallop, with each flying stride she felt her bones jar. _Best to think about something else_. She did not wish to dwell on the thought of being reunited with her family, they were far from escaping the Lannisters yet. If any man could do it the Hound could! What did she really know about him? More than most, she thought back to the day of the Kings tournament…

* * *

_"Dog!"_

_"Yes, your Grace."_

_"Take my betrothed back to the castle, so that no harm befalls her."_

_"Yes, your Grace." Sandor snorted at her backwards glance. "Did you think your Prince would see you safely to your bed? Small chance!" He began to hurry her along. "Come, you're not the only one needs sleep. I've drunk too much wine, and I may need to kill my brother tomorrow." _

The tone of his horse laugh seemed to suggest he'd enjoy doing so. Sandor's eyes fell on Sansa as they went; she glanced in his direction in response of his gaze. She could not bring herself to look at him. She had watched him fight with his brother, and she had seen more than she'd wished already. But it was his rage that frighten her most, not his ruined face.

He was so strong the sight had at first thrilled her, never before seeing two men fight with such lust for blood, her racing heart had quickly sicken. In those moments she could see a killer…A real killer, and yet it was tempered, controlled… Unlike his brother who was half blinded by his fury.

That night like many other nights he'd had much to drink, often wine fed men's darker moods making them quick to anger. She remember trying to think so something to say.

_"You rode quite gallantly today, Ser Sandor," He snarled at her remark  
_

_"Spare me your empty compliments, girl . . . and your ser's. I'm no knight. I spit on em and their vows. My brother's a knight. Did you see him ride today?"__  
"Yes…He was . . ."_

_"Gallant?" He spat as if the word was poison in his mouth._ He had turned stopped in front of her, barring her way. She'd turn her head, looking around to see if there were any other Knights walking in the dark. She could not go ahead on her own; she needed someone to guide her.

_"Your septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles. A pretty little bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you."_

"_That's unkind." How her heart had raced, she tried not to let her fear show. "No one could withstand him," She stated shortly, still hoping she sounded brave.  
_

_"That's truth enough. __Sandor rasped in reply. __No one could ever withstand Gregor. That boy's second joust, that was a pretty bit of business. You saw it didn't you? Fool had no business riding with this company. You think your Ser Gregor's lance rode up by chance, do you? O yes, pretty little talking girl, you believe. Gregor's lance goes where he wants it to go." _She cast her eyes down, remembering the sight of the young man dying. Gregor's splintered lance sicking out from his neck._ "Look at me. LOOK AT ME!"_ He'd put a huge hand under her chin and forced her face up.

_Crouching he moved closer. "Here's a pretty for you. That's right, take a good long stare. You know you've wanted to. I've watched you turning away all down the kingsroad. Piss on that! Take a look!"__  
His fingers held her jaw as hard as an iron trap. She had had to look. His eyes watched hers. His drunken eyes, shined with anger. "No pretty words for this, girl? No compliments your septa taught ya?" She couldn't answer._

_ "Most think I got this in battle. One fool asked if it was dragonsbreath." His laugh had been softer that time, but still cold and bitter. "I'll tell you what happened, girl," She hated the way he called her "Pretty" and "Girl" She'd tried to focus on his words not his face. He leaded in so close she could smell wine on his breath. "I was younger than you, six, maybe seven. A woodcarver set up shop in the village under my father's keep, he made wonderful toys he gifted to us, I don't remember what I got, but I want Gregor's. It was a wooden knight, all painted up, every joint pegged separate and fixed with strings, so you could make him fight. _

_Gregor is five years older than I, to him the toy was nothing. He was already a squire, near six foot tall built like an ox. So I took his knight. I was scared all the while, and sure enough, he found me with it. He just picked me up under his arm and shoved the side of my face down in the burning coals and held me there while I screamed and screamed. You saw how strong he is. Even then, it took three grown men to get em off me. _

_Septons preach bout the seven hells… Only a man who's been burned knows what hell is truly like.__  
Father told everyone my bedding had caught fire, the maester gave me ointments. Ointments! Four years later, they anointed him with the seven oils and he recited his knightly vows and King Targaryen tapped him on the shoulder saying, 'Arise, Ser Gregor.'"  
His voice trailed off. _She realized her fear had been replaced by sadness, sadness for him. She gently laid her hand on one of his broad shoulder.

_ "He was no true knight," she whispered to him.__  
He threw back his head and roared… It might have been a laugh, but it was unlike any she had ever heard. She startled away from him with fright, he caught her arm. "No," he growled at her, "No, little bird, he was no true knight."_ He'd promised to kill her if she repeated his tale; still she felt little fear, even as her life was threatened.

* * *

As they road onward she recalled him rescuing her from the mob. She had been more than glad ( she would have been overjoyed but by that time she no longer remembered how joy felt), beyond relieved to see him, even as he chopped down the men like trees for firewood. Her prayers to be saved answered by those men' bloody deaths before her eyes. He hadn't let her thank him, speaking over her stuttered words of her gratitude for his bravery.

_"A dog doesn't need courage to chase off rats. They might of outnumbered me thirty ta one, yet not a man among them dared face me."_ Then turned his head to show the burns as it they were a ward of some kind.

_"Dose it bring you joy to scare people?"_

_"No, it brings me joy to kill people! Killings the sweetest thing there is." He smiled_

_"Why are you always so hateful!"_

_"You'll be glad of the hateful things I do someday, when you are queen, and I'm all the stands between you and your beloved King."_

* * *

It was followed by another memory closer to the time of her father's death, one night he had escorted her to her bedchamber.

She did not know that on that night he had thought of her, all the while he drank himself into a stupor. Recalling her singing to herself on the road, as their company made their way to Kingslanding. It was a sad little song about a girl lowborn who fell in love with a knight from afar.

_There once was a lass from the low country_

_Who loved of a man with high degree_

_She loved his Lordship so tenderly_

_Sing sorrow, sing sorrow_

_Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flower nods_

_And no one knew she loved him, but herself, and Gods…_

One day when the snow was on the mead

He passed her by on his milk white steed

And she spoke to him low but he paid no need

Oh sorrow sing sorrow

Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flower nods

No-one knows how she loved him but herself and gods

He'd tried to drown away the ringing of her voice that stung he's heavy heart. Her song had been a prophecy now fulfilled; taste of bitter sorrow she had sung of was so great, drink could not wash it from his mouth.

* * *

As he beheld her wide frightened eyes, and pouting lips that almost trembled, he could not notice how much she grown.

_"You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you're taller too, almost . . . _

His words offended her more than any time before. Her anger gave her courage to ask what she had never dared before.

_"Why do you let people call you a dog? You won't let anyone call you a knight." She spat out, changing the subject to what might make him uncomfortable  
_

_"I like dogs better than knights. A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face… and that's more than little birds can do… I never got my song." _She tried to move away but was stopped by his hands slamming against the wall.

_"Why don't you sing me a song, of your knights and lovely maidens?"_

_"I don't know any songs, not anymore." _She saw in his face a glimmer of understanding, sympathy for her pain, even as he mocked her. He blinked it away and said more hurtful things.

_The King will be having you soon…Taking you into his bed. What do you think of that?"_

_"My wedding night shall be the happiest…"_

_"Stop lying girl!"_ _He grabbed her arm hard enough to leave bruises._

_"Please ser, you're hurting me." _

_"Don't you ser me." He barked cause her to jump._

_"I'm frightened, is that what you wanted to hear me say? That I'm scare of you?"_

_"The whole world scares you, doesn't it girl."_


	4. Chapter 4

Sandor, all his kindness, refusing to hit me even when the King commanded it and then telling the other knights to stop, helping me stand back up after the many times I had been struck down… Covering me with his cloak… If anyone could save me, wanted to protect me, Sandor Clegane would. He was one of the few men I know with any honor. Though he didn't believe in kindness or honor, perhaps it was like what her father had told her on their way to Kingslanding. Honor is won when it is tested… I felt one tear roll down my cheek, recalling other words he spoke after the King had said she was to marry the Prince.

_"Royalty may be a birth right to some, but it should be a burden earned every day, by every King or Queen's throughout their life."_ She had not understood why he called it a burden, not then, now it was painfully clear. All those words he had spoken, hearing them countless times, rarely did I truly listen. What I would give to hear him speak them again.

He had also spoke of the Hound, telling them to respect, him that it mattered not what a man looked like. That he was the Prince's sworn shield, whom would protect her and the Prince… May the seven hells take him!

She did not know when she fell a sleep, or even if she had. Memories and dreams wave upon wave of thoughts, of home and of Sandor. _"I could keep you safe," _Sandor's face against hers, his breath upon her neck before he kissed it... The strength of his arms as he held her tight. _"They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'll kill em." _Sandor was not ugly and twisted the way Joffery was... For all his hate he still showed her kindness, or something close to it. That was the closet she had felt to being loved since her father's death._  
_

"Sandor..." She whispered from her dream. "My Sandor..."

* * *

Eight miles past and Sandor slowed Strangers gate. Sansa's head had begun to loll back, resting on his chest. Her hood had slipped off her head when the had jumped a fence as they cut through a field she was already clinging tightly, she dared not try to raise it while riding at such a pace. Her flaming hair still hidden beneath her scarf.

The smell of lemon and lavender mingled with the scent of her skin aroused his senses. Before he knew what he had done, he'd kissed her hair at the back of her neck and whispered...

"Rest now little bird, you'll need all you can..."

Soon he was lost in his own thought as the road as fast and as far as they could...

You can save her from the starving rats, and those buggered lions, but can you save her from yourself? From the Hound, you are no savor, just a pretender aren't you? Like the piss-ant boy king. You tricked the loin's favorite bone to chew on ta join you for dinner...

Then again, maybe the little bird was more wolf then she'd let on. What she had said to that sniveling bastard, after he told her to kiss his blade. Like he'd ever use it in a fare fight. I'd have no sooner kissed his cock if I was her. Still she let him make a damn fool of himself…

He remembered that was not the only time she had done so, or disobeyed the king without him knowing. One of his most prized possessions, had come from her doing just that. He had been passing by as she let down her hair. Not wanting to wait until she reached her bedchambers. She no longer liked to wear it up, in the same fashion of the ladies of the South. A small sliver clasp (Looked to be made for a man's belt, maybe a dagger) had fallen from her hair. One of the handmaidens had heard it fall, she picked it up and asked if it was Sansa's.

"M'Lady is this yours? It has a wolf upon it." She looked frightened for a moment.

"No… It looks to be more of a Hound than a wolf, it must belong to Ser, Clegane." Her eyes met his pleading for him to take it. So he did, as he looked it over he knew why. It had been her father's, the Lannisters order all of Lord Stark's belongings be destroyed. How she had come by it he didn't know. Wearing it hidden on her person was another one of her small rebellions against the King's wishes.

How many times had you run your rutty hand across that bit of sliver? He had torn apart his small room once fearing he had lost it in a drunken stupor. Once he found it he decided to let Stranger guard it for him. No one would steal it from him, if a fool tried to take from his bridle he'd be kicked to death. He thought himself a fool, treasuring it like a it was a maidens favor from one of the little birds fairy tales. He would give it back to her. No reason for him to keep it now! Once it would be gone he'd no longer waste time thinking of it!

His heart raced when she spoke his name in her sleep. _"Sandor..."_ It stopped in his throat when she called him... _"My Sandor"_

Best pay no mind, she is sleeping, dreaming... And if she is dreaming of you it must have been a nightmare!

He gave her a gentle shake, she woke slowly then suddenly half turned in the saddle, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Damn you girl! Are you trying to knock us both off!"

"I am so sorry! I thought it had all been a dream!" The scarf had fallen off slightly, he could see her perfectly pale skin framed by her hair, that smell was so intoxicating to him. The start of tears made her beautiful eyes shine even more than the star over head. _Piss on that you fool! _

"Get your head out of my face! And cover that Damn hair a yours before it gives us away and gets both our heads on a pike!"

"My apologizes..." She had turned back around and begun to fix her hair. "Thank you, I'll try to not be so foolish."

"Had better do more than try..." He felt hollow, and cold once she had let go of him. "You'd be smart enough if you'd just think before you act." He'd never tell her how glad her _thoughtlessness_ had made him. "We'll be stopping soon, so stay awake til then. If you fall off I'd have half a mind to leave you where you lie." The thought of her sleeping in his arms made his legs feel weak. Nah, it was the riding... Fool of a dog in love with a bird.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thought it was cool to have 200 persons view the start of my story in four days, however I do think it might have something to do with the M Rating and the romance between Sandor and Sansa we all love so much. Well I must confess I like the smut too, that will be coming shortly.**

* * *

They had gone close to 15 miles, passing through fields and thickets; until they turned into denser woods and came to a stony outcrop. It was out of the way and hard to see, Sandor must have known was there. After dismounting he helped Sansa down, when her legs began to give out under neither her, Sandor held her up. _Gods, she could weight no more than seven stone,_ he thought as he hooked one hand beneath her shoulder, almost picking her off the ground.

He handed her a bedroll after guiding to cove between two pillars of rock, where there was a patch of earth free of stones.

"Go on now, settle in." Then he left, returning with Stranger who had easily traversed the trail for such a large horse. He then unsaddled him and removed the saddle bags. One was full of grain and water skin. He gave Stranger a long drink, then a quick rubdown before hooking a feed bag onto his bridle. Sandor took a large canvas tarp out of his other saddle bag, and attached it to each pillar making a makeshift tent, tall enough to lead Stanger underneath.

"There'll be no fire tonight; he'll help keep us warm." Sandor stated, answering the questioning look on Sansa's face. "Don't worry little bird, he'll not step on ya during the night, he' just as tired as you." Without another word he removed his chest plate and shoulder guards, and then he laid out his own bedroll. Tucking his broad sword under the right side and unsheathing a dagger which he held tight as he did his best to make himself comfortable on the hard ground.

Much needed sleep quickly over took the both of them, even as they both began to dream uneasy dreams.

* * *

Cool, wet, snow beneath feet… No, not feet, paws… Slender strong; four, not two. Run, run sailing, jumping over fallen trees. I am at Winterfell… home! Walking to through the forest to the Godswood. My reflection is not my face; I see a white direwolf its face stained with blood… I am the direwolf; my face is stained with blood… I can taste it, warm and thick, so sweet. Arya, I see her reflection in the pool across from mine, the face of her wolfself, had she join me in the hunt? … I look up, but she is not there, only her reflection. Sister of the house of Stark, daughter of Winterfell, where are you? Come with me, run with me…I call, singing my sad song lifting my howls to the sky. Let the wind carry them to her. Sister, bother, mother I cry… The first men call us home, calling to our blood. Come home to winter. Winter is coming, coming fast

* * *

I'M BURNING HELP ME! PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME SANDOR! SAVE ME SANDOR!

_I cannot save you; you could not save me… He is too strong...It's just a dream, just a dream._ _Again Gregor's voice is in my ear._

Hello little brother, you'd been ignoring me again. Been months since you dreamt a me. Dreaming of your redheaded sweetling haven't you? I wonder if her cunt has that same beautiful red hair, barely old nough to have curls around that sweet little bud a hers. Barely, but still old enough!

_YOU ARE A DEAD MAN, DREAM OR NOT! THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, YOU DIE! DO YOU HEAR ME YOU DAMNED FUCK?! YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD! A WALKING CORPS! THAT'S ALL THE FUCK YOU ARE NOW!_ "Sandor…" _Sansa whispers._

"Sandor… Sandor, come and see..." _There she stands within the fire, blue flames dance around her body, her white dress burns away. Her perfect skin unharmed by the flame._ "Sandor, my Sandor…" _The fire turns red like her hair that flies and dances in the heat._ _She smiles, blushing as if the flames were gentle kisses, and they are. They are my kisses, sweet Sansa aches her neck, pulling me closer deeper into the flames. I am not burned, her eyes so blue and icy. _

"Sandor… Kiss me…" _As our lips touch my face begins to burn, I am screaming now, screaming in pain, searing pain. And Gregor's laughs, and laughs…_

* * *

Sandor woke with a start, dagger at the ready. Once he realized he and Sansa were in no danger, he laid back down, letting out a heavy sigh. Hoping to be able to fall back asleep he turner to face Sansa. Her eyes were half open and dark; even in the dim light of the morning he could tell they were almost black. He looked closer and saw that they were big and wide, barely any white left. She was so still he could not tell if she was breathing. He lifted her into his arms leading his ear to her face. Hoping he would hear her breathing. He could, she was breathing, they were shallow breaths, but she still lived, much to his relief.

"Wake up girl!" He shook her, trying to rouse her. Her eyes opened all the way, no longer staring straight ahead, her deathly back eyes locked with his. Fear and shock crippled Sandor for a moment. "What sorcery is this?" He whispered. Never once did they blink as he slowing laid her back down. She slowly closed her eyes and her breathing returned to normal, her eyes flutter and she woke once more.

"Sandor?" She whispered through silted eyes, eyes that were blue once more. His heavy heart began to beat again. He stared down at her as she gazed at his face, all of it, roaming from one side to the other and back again. Neither knew how long those moments were, entranced in each other's eye. The spell was finally broken by Stranger snort, then pawing at the ground, waiting for breakfast, impatient to graze.

When Sandor looked by at Sansa she had rolled over in her bedroll, eyes closed, apparently trying to sleep again. Sandor got back up and tended to Strangers needs, doing his best to push what had happened out of his mind. _It was just another dream, do like the lass and try to get more sleep._ When he finally felt back to sleep he dreamt of the largest wolf he had ever seen, with wide dark black eyes. Eyes he had seen before, but he could not remember where.


	6. Chapter 6

He heard Sansa wake, her stretching stopped by the pain and stiffness from first the long ride and then night of sleeping on the cold ground. She sharply inhaled, that too caught in her throat coughing as the smoke from the cooking fire filled her laughs.

"I… I… Thou…ut no fires." She blinked her eyes and fanned her face as she coughed.

"So it's true, smoke follows beauty" He chuckled. "The smell a smoke from Kingslanding has drifted over twenty mile by now pretty bird." She would have wonder if he had complimented her in some way, if his voice hadn't its usual malicious tone.

It was nothing more than dried spiced meat stewing in some water, but it would do them both some good. "This'll warm you some bird." Pointing at the small pot resting on a large rock in the center of the fire. She wasn't looking at him, busying herself with her satchel. Once she had retrieved a small flask she slowly got up and walked over to Sandor and the fire. Her stiff and jerky movements were enough to make him chuckle once more.

"The ground not suitable to your delicate fancies, little bird?" She almost glared at him, but was too sore and cold to manage it.

"No worse than Ser, Blount's beatings…" She said curtly as she lowered herself down beside Sandor." _Bloody fucking idiot! _Sandor cursed himself for his thoughtless words. She opened the little flask and leaded forward to poor some in the pot. Sandor snatched it away.

"And what in seven hells is this?"

"Strong spirits from the north, they help easy pain."

"Spirits?" His eyes twinkled, it smelt stronger than wine or ale, still he was more than happy to sample the brew. Sansa cringed as he took a gulp. His eyes watered as his hold face and throat burned, he gasped and sputtered a bit. Sansa tried not to laugh. "What in the fucking hells was that? Dragon piss?" He was trying to yell but it only came out as a gasping whisper.

"I would have told you not to drink it, not without watering it down, or adding it to something…" She bit the inside of her cheek watching his face change colors. He shook his head and handed it back to her. He would have been seething mad if it wasn't already sending warm tingles throughout his body numbing some of his pain.

"You're just full a surprises, aren't ya little bird?" His voice was back to normal and most of the redness had faced from his face. She poured two cap full's into the stew, than stopped it and replaced it cap. Sandor's mood improved as much as it could, he was still the hound after all.

They both enjoyed the stew; the savor of the spices had been improved and given a greater kick by the spirits Sansa had added. Warming them both and took the edge off the worst of their pains.

"Shall we be avoiding the main roads?" Sansa was trying to sound smart, and say nothing idle, giving him fuel for his mockery of her. Sandor furrowed his brow, and looked at her as if she had just pointed out that the sky was blue.

"Aye." He then turned his back and began to untie the tarp, while she made up their bedrolls.

"But we will still come across other persons, travelers, farmers..?"

"Nothing escapes you girly, we might even stop at an inn or tavern for supplies." She could hear him becoming more and more annoyed.

"Should I change my hair?" Sandor turned back around a snide smirk on his face. Masking how much he'd hate for her to change any part of her appearance.

"Not a bad idea, but your teats are too big to hide ur a woman, what would cutting it off do?"

"It will take a little time but I can use the ash from the fire to make it back." Sandor thought a moment; it was a good idea, if it would work.

"And what if it rains?"

"I still have my scarf and cloak." He growled to himself and scratched his chin as he thought. If they took one of the north roads closer to the main road they could make better time. If someone did see them reports would be of a girl with black hair not red or hidden away…

"Be quick about it, I'll scout around a bit, stay close to Stranger but don't stand behind him. Listen to him, he'll tell ya if someone's coming." With that he handed her a dagger and strode off.

He had scouted earlier, so didn't spend much time retracing his steps, nothing had changed (beside a few rabbit tracks) in the three hours since he last looked. As he headed back to their camp he made sure to stay up wind of Stranger, he'd smell him before he heard him, and would not alarm Sansa of his approach. Sansa's hair was wrapped in her scarf as she redressed, lacing her bodice over her small clothes. Her hips looked to be just the right size; she was thin from the Lannister's abuse. She would fill out nicely; they would be as wide as her shoulders once she got a little more meat on her. Now she was facing his direction, causing him to sink back into the shadows just a little more. Stranger turned his head and eyed him, as if he disproved of Sandor's spying. _Rutty strumpet cur! Should know where your loyalties lie._ He couldn't blame Stranger, or any beast to think her beautiful, that didn't mean he wouldn't kill every last one of them if they said a word, or so much as thought of touching her.

Her bodice repressed some of the size and form of her breasts, but made it easier to see her cleavage once she had finished dressing. She was now dressed in a simple grey dress, nothing fancy about it, unlike the finer dress she had been wearing when the left Kingslanding. He liked this one better, he wasn't sure why. It could have been having watched her dress made it so much easier to imagine undressing her. How it would look as it fell off her shoulder, his hands running down her body after it. Untying the stays and unlacing her bodice, her breast wobbling ever so slightly then quiver as they are released from their restraint. He had to stop thinking such pleasurable imaginings or soon not even his armor would be able to conceal his arousal.

Sandor cleared his throat as he revealed himself, Stranger snorted and Sandor curled his lip at him. He looked Sansa over then nodded. She rearranged her hair, it was now in ringlets and her scarf was tied to keep her ash stained hair from touching her neck or fall into her face. She cleaned her hands off on the grass still wet with doe, then helped finish parking. She told him she preferred to carry she satchel when he offered to put it in one of the saddle bags. _What other secrets are you hiding in your little bags of ticks I wonder!_

"We'll camp another night, maybe two, then get supplies and you a horse of your own." When he unceremoniously threw her up into the saddle, she was quickly reminded of all the parts of her body that were sore. She moaned inwardly…_It just like walking and swimming, it will become easier in time… seven Gods this hurts!_

Sandor didn't think Sansa homely with her blacken hair, she would always be the loveliest thing he beheld in this world and the next. He knew that now, maybe he had always known it. And he could never have her, not completely. If he believed in a one of the single Gods he would have thank it for the rest of his days, so long as he could worship her, even from afar.

Even if the little bird was willing, he knew not how to love a woman. To gently take her, the way she deserved. All the Clegane men were rough and large in stature, and their endowment matched their size. The whores he had taken were lose as you would expect as women in their profession. All but one had been afraid of him, simply obeying him as he mounted them like a hound taking a bitch. The one, who had shown pleasure, spoke of how she would yearn for his cock once he left he had hit. Then forced her to sallow his cock…

"I did not pay to pleasure your flapping cunt!" At first she seemed willing to take him into her mouth. But soon he was forcing himself down her throat making her gag and cry, eye welling up for want of breath.

"If you bite down I shall slit your throat and fuck you corps." She had passed out before he was done. But he didn't care; he was satisfied in teaching her, her lesson… Did that make him the same as King Joffery?

He was always pushing the thought of her marring another man, a husband touching her, taking her to his bed so that she could bear his children… He knew he had to leave Kingslanding that night. He knew the night that bastard fuck took Sansa to his bed would be the same night he killed the Boy King. He might have left the battle, disgraced; it might have been because of fear. It was in away… Fear for Sansa, great sickening fear that he would die protecting that inbred coward and no longer be able to protect the little bird.

If the little bird had not chosen to go he wouldn't have forced her. Gods knowing she would be forced to worse fates, but he could not have brought himself to do as those Lannister fucks did… Her own family for that matter, filling her head with fairytales and pretty lies. So she would jump at the chance to marry a pig like the Prince... The lies that could have and still just might get her killed.

Sansa was fidgeting; he knew she had something she wanted to say.

"Out with it girl." She took a deep breath than paused again.

"What is our story?..."

"This isn't a story little bird, I thought you might'a learned that by now."

"I meant what will we tell people…? If they should ask questions…?"

"Bugger their questions! My business is my own, always has been, they can go fuck themselves… Sides they should know better than to trifle with me, not if they want to live."

"You can't kill everyone." She said quietly.

"Didn't I promise you just that… That's why you are here now, with me, isn't it?" His voice was becoming more of a growl.

"No! I went with you because I know you are a good man!" She said it with more conviction than he'd ever heard in her voice before.

"A good man!" He bellowed laughing at her words.

"You won't hurt me… I trust you." She said louder still over his roaring laughter. Swiftly and suddenly he dismounted and snatched her off Stranger. He held her by her shoulders her toes could barely touch the ground. His voice was dark and low, full of hate and warning.

"You trust me? Far too long you trusted the world little bird! Trust no one, especially me! What's ta stop me from throwing you down and raping you right here in the mud? Ay bird? Do you still think men have honor? That they wouldn't use you as soon as they get the chance? Your Septa's stories might'a been right about one thing, many a man would fight for you, kill for you, I can tell you that. But what she didn't tell ys is what they do it for, not cause they care for you. It's your cunt they be after…" She swung and slapped his face as hard as she could while he still restrained her upper arm.

"Do not speak to me in such a manner!"

"Does the little bird think she's a wolf, now that she's outta sight of the loins? Or did I just offend her Ladyship? Think you can put a dog in his place with a slap?" Her words were cold and steady; she looked many years older as she spoke them.

"Sandor Clegane, you may refuse to see yourself as a man, but even a dog can control his wagging tongue. If I wished to be spoken to with such disrespect I would have remained in Kingslanding! Just because your words are vulgar do not make them any truer. Wolves, Birds titles, and houses aside I am a woman first. I do not wish or demand to be cuddled, or even protected. However I will _not_ listen to your rude cowardice any longer. Release me!" He didn't, just stared back into her fiery eyes. When he spoke again his voice was low and more ominous then she had heard before, still, it didn't frighten her.

"Coward? I am many things, a dog, a devil, a killer, murder to some, and to others a servant to the King. Kings commands are often murderous. I've committed sins they would make little girls like you faint, and enjoyed doing most of them. But coward? No one alive has called me that… I don't hide behind pretty words and lies about honor and faith, and love. Or live in fairytales cause the world around is a shit whole. Can you say that little bird? There is no such thing as honor! Your father died a fool!"

She swung to strike him again, but he let her fall as he caught the hand she tried hitting him with. Her voice was quite in a manner that pierced his soul.

"You hide behind your burns like a mask. Pretending as much as any child to be such a hard man, the strongest man you ever met on this earth was my father. He had more bravery than army of men such as you. Dying and killing on command is as natural as breathing to some men, I know this now. I did believe in those stories, a knight that loves is willing to die gallantly. Dying is easy, you only need in die once, hate is easy, killing is easy. Living everyday for the ones you love takes more courage than facing any opponent on any battlefield. My father died living by what he had taught his children every day of our lives. That is honor and true bravery."

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and stood with her head held high.

"Do you think I lived, survived out of fear? At first I would have gladly died a thousand deaths if it meant I could revenge my father's death in some way. I will not pretend that I did not live in fear; I had never been more afraid, waking everyday knowing what terrible fate could befall me. A death like my fathers the least among them, I have come to know he did not die so that I would do the same. He died for the same reason he lived, to be an example, as a teacher, so that one day I would teach my children the truth of honor and bravery, of love… Not selfish lustful wants or designs. Real love is the hardest battle any shall ever face."

She stepped closer inches away from his face.

"He was as imperfect as any other man. His fight to overcome his failings, his sins, to right the wrongs he could is what made him strong. Killing may be the sweetest thing there is, love is often the most bitter. By the new Gods my brother Jon is a sin, even though the sin was my father and not Jon's, he still must wear the name of a bustard. So the world may know that he was born in shame, is that fair? My father loved him no less, even though the sight of him pained my mother…" She lowered her eyes. "…Of all my brothers I see the most of my father in Jon…" She looked back into Sandor's eye her lips trembling slightly. "Is it fair that the one person has shown me some semblance of love since my father death treats me cruelly? Never allowing me to thank him or return in kind? That he will not allow me to help burden his pain, no matter how willing I may be? But love is not fair, and far from perfect…" She reached her hand up and gently touched his scared face. "…Or pretty."

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**Sorry fair maidens and Knights I might be leaving you hanging for a bit. Shipping season at work begins soon so I won't have much time. But keep bugging me and I'll do my best to write more! :)  
**


	7. A lovely girl

_ "Boy, lovely boy… A man has a thirst; a man does not drink for a day and a night. A boy could make a friend… You are called Ary…"_ Once I bowed my head, nodded, now I bare my teeth lifting my head high.

"I am a daughter of the first men, sister of the Dire Wolves, Ary no more." I am no longer afraid.

_"This man has the honor to be called Jaqen H'ghar…"_

"You are honored to be in my presences Jaqen H'ghar…" _My sister calling, I hear her on the wind. Home to Winterfell, come home, come home… Winter is coming!_

* * *

_A man watched the lovely girl, a strength she did not even know of, old as the first men, cold and strong as steel. A man knows the House of Black and White would guide lovely girl. The Red God would model lovely girl into a fearsome servant. _

_Now a man watches lovely girl sleep, lovely girl sires and raises… Dark eyes, black eyes, not the eyes of the lovely girl, a man is troubled. What this power is, a man does not know. Not of the Seven Gods, or of the old known to a man. A man is worried for the lovely girl who stares with black eyes to the moon._

* * *

"Where were you!" A man tried not to smile at the lovely girls fiery eyes.

"A man has patrol-duty_…" Lovely girl's eyes are her own now. A man has not seen those dark eyes again, perhaps it is the moon…_

"You promised you'd help me."

"That was not promised lovely girl, only death. There must be others, give a name, any name."

"And you'll kill them? Anybody?" O, now a man sees those eyes.

"By the seven new Gods, and the old Gods beyond counting, I swear it." _Lovely eyes of the lovely girl so black and cold, eyes of a killer._

"Alright…" _Ah the lovely girl…_ "Jaqen H'ghar." _A man is angered by a girl's insolence, has she no respect for a man and the Red God?_

"A girl gives a man his own name?"

"That's right."

"God's are not mocked this is no joking thing!"

"I'm not joking; a man can go kill himself!"

"Unname me!"

"No!"

"Please!"_ A man does not know if he speaks to a child or a beast._

"I'll unname you."

"Thank you."

"lf you help me and my friends escape."

"This would require more than one life. This is not part of our bargain."

"Fine, Jaqen H'ghar."

"A girl lacks honor…" _No, the eyes of a girl have no honor, but they are not the eyes of a girl or a boy, a man or a woman. Who's eyes do you wear_…? " lf l do this thing, a girl must obey."

"A girl will obey." _The lovely girls eyes are her own again… how interesting… _

"A girl and her friends will walk through the gate at midnight."

* * *

A man must think of what has been seen, of what a man has felt. Lovely girl is not like other children of this land. All others are blind to what is in her, what a man had barely seen. It was only a man's worried watch that had revealed her… What it was, a man does not know, a man knows who would, who could give her answers.

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**Authors note: Try as I might, I could not leave Arya and Jaqen out, so I will continue the over done match ups like so many before me. But hey if it ain't broke don't fix it!**


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa turned and began to walk down the road, Sandor watching, stunned by the words spoken by a child.

_No, she was no child. The child of Winterfell died with her father, but the little bird was not a woman either._

Sandor followed once he shook himself from his thoughts. It would do Stranger some good, and Sandor and Sansa as well. Too many powerful emotions had been stirred, it would be most unwise for their bodies to touch and move even if it was just riding together on a horse.

"As a members of the Kingsguard you are forbidden from owning land, taking a wife, or fathering children…"

Sandor was pulled from his sobering thoughts by Sansa's words; he had not heard all of what she had said.

"What's that you're chirping on about little bird?"

"It was just an idea…" She gave a backwards glance.

"I could not hear you speak you deft child, quit speaking into the wind if you wish to be heard." She stopped and turned to face him.

"I said I think I should be pregnant!" That stopped him in his tracks. "Everyone knows you left with a woman. I was trying to think of another reason you might have left, something not connected to my absence. Kingsguards are not allowed wife's or to father children. I have heard stories of desertion because of a man's lover had become with child… It would be one thing if spies heard of you traveling with a young woman with black hair, something easily changed. However simple padding my dress would be as well, but it does make for a more compelling lie."

"And where did you get a lie like that, your stories of from living too long in Kingslanding?"

"I think it's rather clever!" Sandor wasn't sure if it was or if it was just daffy, he told her so. "It wouldn't hurt… Even if they don't believe it, they wouldn't risk being wrong, they'd have to widening their search. Which means their men will be spread thinner…"

"What was in that poison brew a yours? You almost sound like you know what you're saying."

"I learned to listen well, both to my father and Lannisters… I wish I had listened more to his words…"

"Do what you will little bird I won't stop you."

They walked on foot for about a mile then began to ride Stranger once more. They stopped twice, each time Sandor would remove all of Strangers gear and tackle then give him a good rub down. He explained it was ease his pain from carrying them as far and as fast as he had. Sansa immediately asked if she could help.

"I'm half the weight he is carrying." She pointed out, which made Sandor chuckle.

"What? You? Little wisp of a girl? You barely weigh more than his saddle bags."

"I'm sure even those get heavy after a while!" Sandor frowned, it wasn't his normal frown it was the closest he came to smiling (when he wasn't laugh at, of mocking Sansa).

"Aye lass, I suppose you're right, but don't be letting that go to your head. You still not much more than a little bird." She grumbled about being neither a wisp of a girl or a little bird, even though she was beginning to grow fond of his pet name for her. She no longer viewed it as an insult. Sun had begun to set once more they had made close to ten leagues in all, from the time they left Kingslanding till where they made camp that night.

Sandor made another half tent for them to sleep under then began to drag limbs he had cut from trees to place around it as a wind break. Much to his surprise Sansa helped, she could only manage one at a time, but she did her best to be useful. She could build and start a fire faster than any man Sandor had ever seen. Not something he would have been impressed with if it hadn't been done by a Lady of the House of Stark. If it wasn't for the cooking of food and necessity of its warmth, Sandor would never build a fire.

"Where did you learn that little bird?" Sansa smiled smugly .

"My head is full of more than fairytales, and my hands have learned other things then sewing and making tea…" Her nose twitched slightly. "Not many, but some… My Father could start a fire with ice!" Her eyes brightened as she smiled from ear to ear. Sandor snorted and Sansa raised an eyebrow, than began to draw in the dirt. First two circles, a little one below a large one, which she drew lines coming down like rays to point to the little one. "You have it get the ice to be as smooth and as clear as glass. Then you use it to focus the rays of the sun till they are hot enough to start a fire. The conditions have to be just right…" Some of the smile fell from her face. "I almost missed seeing him do it. It was a beautiful sunny day, and no matter what Arya says I liked to play outside just as much as her…" Her eyes fell back down to her little scribbles in the dirt. "… Well maybe I didn't, don't…" She looked back up into Sandor's eyes. "I don't think I will ever play again." She looked at her hands opening them, palms up. "His hands were so red from smoothing the ice, we each took a turn of course Arya did it twice just to prove how tough she was, but Jon held it the longest, other than father. Arya and Jon tried doing it on their own, Jon could do it but even fearless Arya was unable, she doesn't have the patience for simplest of needlework…" She sighed heavily then apologized for rambling on about such fool hearty and childish things. Sandor hadn't minded but he was not about to get caught enjoying her stories and memories of happier and simpler times. He made a growling sound as he nodded curtly.

Their dinner was the same as their last meals, dried spiced meat stewed, however Sandor told Sansa she had best only add her "venomous brew" in the morning. He did not want to fall into too deep of sleep, like a dreamless voids he would sometimes slip into after much drink. It took a great deal of wine, almost a barrel it seemed, he was unsure how he would reacted to this much stronger drink.

Then Sandor was once more surprised by Sansa, she asked if Stranger would benefit from the spirits. They had begun to settle into their bedrolls as the finished their portions in silence, he knew she had something on her mind, and had been staring at the large black charger all the while they eat.

"Is Stranger in pain, from all the riding, running and jumping? Forgive my ignorance I do not know what would be a strain for a horse. The men of the night watch give their horses spirits in their grain or water to warm and keep them from pain…"

"Why are you so keen on feeding us that potion a yours? Never you mind him… He'll out live us both little bird…" Sandor he knew him well and that Stranger didn't need any such medicine. Hells one of the two need'n be sober. She nodded as her eyes fluttered, it was the truth, now that Sandor no longer was riding into battle chances were if some pack northern wilding bested him they'd rape Sansa until they were sick of her then kill her, and after that kill the horse for its meat, if they could catch him. If a bounty hunter or Lannister men got to them they'd want Stranger for studding, or to sell. Sandor doubted the King wished for their safe return, but might want them alive… Little fuck had most likely found some new or older forgotten form, darker twisted torment for both him and the little bird. He'd like to see their deaths in person that would be sure… The boy tyrant wouldn't get his way all the time, especially not this time.


	9. More Dreams

_Prey is near, Sansa heard it, smelt it, feel it. She could almost taste it, it was no question, she would hunt that night, she had already risen from her bed (and her human form, now still almost lifeless) run, run, the hunt went. Swift and swifter, run, run, thump, thump. Like the earth beneath her paws was a drum, run, run, and drum, drum; echoing the heart beat of her prey. Nothing felt more natural as her teeth sunk into the warm flesh; the blood was thick and hot as it splattered across her face, her muzzle. She tasted the life of her kill as the animal surrendered to its death. A noble death, as it life had been, not petty as a life of the men… Man had forgotten the way of life, the way of death, the way of winter and summer. They had forgotten what the firstmen had been taught by their brothers…_

* * *

That night Sandor didn't dream of burning, or fire, or of Sansa or Gregor. He dreamt of winter and snow. Snow that had been stained red by the kill of what he assumed was a pack of wolves. He also dreamt of large black eyes, as big and round as the moon but even darker than Strangers coat, deathly dark.

When he woke he saw that Sansa most have rolled out of her bedding in her sleep. She was almost touching him, sprawled between his mat and her own. It must have been her thrashing in her sleep that had woken him. In the dark he saw dirt on her dress, hands and face, like she had been fighting the ground beneath her. He thought of trying to wake her, which for the first time brought back the memory of her black eyes, the eyes he had dreamt about.

_No that was a dream too ya simple fuck._

Still he could not shake a sickening fear, so; instead he covered her once more with the blanket knowing the ground was no longer so cold due to the fires warmth.

* * *

What he did not know was she had already come and gone once in the night and that soon as he fell back asleep she would rise up to wash from herself the _blood_ (not dirt) that he had seen, left from her hunt in the night

* * *

It is an old magic, blood magic, a life for a life, life within another life. When Sanas's Dire Wolf was killed the blood bond went on. Lady, (as the daughter of the firstmen named her) was now able to move from shadowlands and through the icy vial beyond the wall. All those bounded to a Dire wolf may join their minds with them, this is the way of blood magic. When a sacrifice of life is made then magic becomes stronger if both spirits are willing. Humans had become too selfish, their minds weakened by petty thoughts, hearts poisoned by lust. Concerned for all but the earth that bore them, and their brothers and sisters, Dire Wolf and Dragon, Winter and summer, all that was even before the old Gods were first given prayers.

Sansa was first awakened when she finally surrender all the worldly thoughts and wants of man, all that remained was family and home. Not the house of Stark, the home in winter, the home with loved ones and true honor. The honor Sansa felt as she took her first kill with Lady. The memory of that night and that hunt would be locked away in her mind from the time her soul laid down into her body once more… Waiting to be woken again with the moon and the call home, home to winter… Winter is coming fast.

* * *

**Authors note: truly sorry I haven't done a better job at this little blurb. WORK AS BEEN HELLISHLY BUSY! In my story: Sansa's new gift is not quite being a shape shifter, Lady's spirit guards and guides her still, she also summoned a physical vessel (which is a wolf) for Sansa to use. Much like the white walkers and dragons many things sleep deep within the oldest parts of the world... Plan on reading things getting old school and some ass kicking of the "Red God" and his followers asses! Once work slows down I will have time to do the story plot justice. **

* * *

As Sandor rested once more his little bird came to him.

He was somewhere on the road to Winterfell, the trees and path felt familiar even though the forest was covered in snow. She stood before him dressed in a fur coat; the pelts were dark against her perfect pale skin. Her hair flew about as if she stood in a breeze, if she did Sandor could not feel it.

"Sandor…" She called to him, her voice echoed as if she called out to him from the depths of a cave. He felt the rushing wind as it pulled and pushed at his back. When their bodies met they fell weightlessly into the snow, soft as clouds about them. Soon they were laying naked in each other's arms. Sansa's cheeks were flushed with passion.

He had to be dreaming, a dream he wished to never wake from. Sansa's body so warm, wet, and inviting, he could feel their heart beats meet with each thrust. Whispering her name over and over again as she let out heavenly sounds, little mews of pleasure. They were music to his ears and heart filling him with more joy and pleasure than he thought his soul could hold without bursting. A great rumble grew inside his chest as her hips began to meet his, each thrust quickening. Her breath caught in her throat as her arched closer, her head flung back, her eye heavy with wanton lust and hunger. The same hunger Sandor felt growing inside him every day.

* * *

His little bird was crying pleading as he woke with a start.

"Sandor, Sandor! There is blood, outside on the ground!" Sandor's dream was forgotten, the hound now was ready to fight.

"Stay low and stay quite!" He harshly whispered and then was gone in the direction that Sansa had pointed. Sandor knew almost immediately that no man had come this way, or caused the kill not more than a stone's throw from their camp. He moved quickly as he could without being reckless knowing a large power beast had taken the young stag down, pieces ripped and strewed about. It worried him how little had been eaten. It was hard to tell from the condition of the kill. Sandor hurried back to question Sansa.

"Why did you go wondering off without waking me?" He barked at they packed up. After he informed her the likelihood of a mad beast like a bear had killed a stag. "You can thank your seven Gods if you wish that it had not lingered or came ta killed us in our sleep. Rav'id beasts don't fear fire…"

She apologized for leaving without saying anything, having the need to relieve herself she thought it in poor taste to tell him.

"Poor taste?" He laughed, shaking his head at how ridiculous such a statement was. "Well you can save your manners till we reach the inn seven miles west of next road we meet. Nah piss on that, that id give us away fur sure!.. You are far too lady like. Best keep your mouth shut… if you can without kill'in ur'self." He muttered.

As he turned to help her into the saddle he saw her with her belly padded. If she wasn't such a small thin little thing it would have been less obvious.

"Knights have affairs with handmaidens…" She placed her hands on his shoulder even before he began to lift her.

"I'm no knight!" He set her down gently, or more so than he had before. Perhaps it was in response to the thought of a young thing like his little bird being with child, his child.

"So are you suggesting you would be more or less inclined to lay with a young servant of the royal house?"

"Matters not, a dogs a dog… Few whores will bed a beast…" Sansa spoke over his words.

"It is said the savage women in faraway lands hope to only bear the son's of the fiercest worriers, to them scars and brutality are most comely."

"And what the fuck has that got to do with anything?"

"I… It's just I can see why such things could be seen as attractive…" To this Sandor said nothing, he simple spurred Stranger to go a little faster, know Sansa would stop talking while they moved at a faster pace.

* * *

**Work is going to taking up most of my time, so it will be awhile, thanks for supporting me! Can't wait to start on the next twist, until then hoping you like!**


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